Memories and Broken Promises
by Ms.MaraJade
Summary: A novelization of the scene between Aramis and Queen Anne from the episode "Emilie," in which I have extended the moment with some artistic license.


_Author's Notes_ : I have been very grateful for the warm reception I received in "The Musketeers" fandom after writing "Queen Takes Knight," and I thank everyone wholeheartedly for their reviews! I did finish watching the show, and while there were some aspects I felt were weakly presented, I have fully embraced "The Musketeers" as a show I would watch repeatedly.

As a requested follow-up to my story "Queen Takes Knight," I took a writing prompt from **pallysdeeks** and pieced together this little one-shot incorporating the theme of "Aramis treating Anne differently than his previous women." I hope it lives up to your expectations!

 _Disclaimer_ : I do not own "The Musketeers" in any capacity with the exception of the books written by Alexandre Dumas from where these characters were inspired. I do not own the scene from which I borrow, and I have merely extended it into a longer moment that I would love to read in a novel if the BBC series was ever presented in written form. There is no money made from this hobby, but that does not stop my imagination from conjuring up new stories. I hope I have captured the spirit of BBC's "The Musketeers," and that I have done justice to the characters as well as one of the many scenes that are so poignant to the series.

 _Summary_ : A novelization of the scene between Aramis and Queen Anne from the episode "Emilie," in which I have extended the moment with some artistic license.

 **Memories and Broken Promises**

Watching Constance and the others make their way out of the main tent in Emilie's camp while he remained inside, Aramis stepped before Queen Anne and blocked her path momentarily to prevent her from following the others. He needed to warn her of the dangers she and Constance had put themselves within. He was still a royal protector, after all, and it would not be out of his realm of responsibility to remind the Queen of France that he would not always be available to rescue her from her whims.

"Don't ever do that again," Aramis told her quietly with caution and concern, doing his best to not sound like a scolding parent.

While he would have done nearly anything to see Anne again, especially on such neutral ground away from the eyes of court, he realized his hasty impulse and took a step back. In doing so, he resolved to plant his hands firmly near his sides, not so much in a stance of authority but more because he feared if he moved them, he would find his arms once again in places that the law demanded they do not belong. He felt his eyes glance around the long-used tent, unable to deny that even when dressed in humble clothing, Queen Anne was no less attractive than she was in her regal gowns.

Taking a breath and now looking at the ground, Aramis mused on the fact that when Queen Anne wore her simple clothing she was at her most tempting. And, her pale blue commoner's dress – no doubt a borrowed item from Constance – was enough to make him want nothing more than to throw aside all sense of propriety and kiss her once again as his fantasies demanded.

However, Aramis continued to refrain from such impulsive desires, opting instead to use these moments to relive his onslaught of memories with Anne, and in his thoughts were the mental visions of his and Anne's time together at that hidden-away convent. Not a day passed in his life in which he did not think of that night in which they had bared themselves to each other in ways beyond the removal of their clothing. The queen had found him at his most vulnerable, grieving and mourning over the chance at a life for which he would never partake. That day he had lost not only his former fiancée, but all the dreams and hopes he had from his youthful days with her.

The queen, in turn, admitted her greatest tragedy and that the most personal loss she had ever endured was the miscarriage of her baby early in her marriage. It was over the tragic loss of the children in their lives that Aramis and Anne had discovered that they had a shared basis of agony on which they could build one moment of hope together. Neither of them had planned anything beyond one night of shared emotions and the pleasures known to lovers. To ensure nothing would change in their lives afterwards, they had both made vows that their shared moment of tragic hope would remain forever within the walls of that convent – hidden and protected from the world.

The child that had been conceived that night between Aramis and Anne was not what either of them had planned or expected, and Aramis had done what he could to remain in royal favor, just so he could catch glimpses of the son that both he and Anne knew was his. While he had maintained a respectful distance from Anne, he could not entirely keep himself at bay from his son, and he found himself recklessly becoming close to the dauphin's governess, just so he could share in fleeting moments of his son's infancy.

But now, to see that Anne – Her Royal Majesty – had momentarily survived the dangers that were wrought in this camp of fanatics and that her radiance continued to shine brightly was something Aramis had never been prepared to endure. No matter how dull a dress she wore or how much the darkness of the world threatened her, Anne was a beaming sun of beauty and kindness, and the reminder of a night he knew he would never be able to forget.

Aramis stared hard at the ground, fighting against the memories of how there was something special about the way he touched her and kissed her that was so different from his other liaisons. He had been in love before, so he knew that it was not simply being in love that had made his night with Anne so different. It was the way his intimate reactions were cautious and protective with her, bringing himself up to a standard higher than the simple noblewoman he was renowned for courting. That night with Anne had brought out an honesty he never had with himself, and all he wanted was to give her everything she had never known.

In doing so, he had shown her what it was to be cherished and loved. He had used a careful and tender touch, ensuring that he thought only of assuaging Anne's loneliness and neglect and that he had been given the opportunity to make her the center of his attentions. Aramis had refused to make any part of that night about him until Anne was certain of her satisfactions, and when she finally gave of herself fully, they had spiraled into a bliss so intense they could do little else but sleep afterwards.

Anne took a quick breath when she realized that she had this moment alone with Aramis, as Constance had already filed out of the tent and the others were gone as well. Her heart raced, and that familiar trembling rushed once again into her hands. She wanted – no needed – this moment to feel the unguarded weight of Aramis' eyes while there was no one around who would question her elongated stare.

Anne felt her eyes drift over him, still aware that since yesterday he had not been dressed in his full Musketeers uniform, as he had been tasked with playing a role in some scheme that she was certain Treville had implemented. However, the lack of his full uniform did not detract from his handsome charm, and she hoped that she had not sabotaged whatever this mission entailed. Still, it was difficult to think of Aramis as anything less than a loyal protector, a knight of sorts who upheld his duty to the crown, even when he was missing the prominent parts of his uniform that identified him as a Musketeer.

Anne pushed aside her encroaching thoughts about Aramis' mission, as she was more aware of the way he stood, keeping himself in alignment with the propriety that had once again wedged between them. Memories of that fated night at the convent quickly returned to her, and she silently breathed at the reminder of his touch – so practiced and yet so tender. She often wondered if he feared that he would have hurt her that night, as his hands had grazed her skin slowly, carefully seeking a pressure that would not leave marks on her from the roughness of his calluses.

Leaning slightly towards Aramis, Anne forced herself not to reach out and seek the mark on his ribs that was hidden beneath his coat. On that night, she had traced that scar, along with the others on his body, seeing for herself just how many times death had dared to mark him in the service of protecting the crown. And, when she brushed her fingers across each of those marks, he kissed her harder or erased her questions by bringing the moment back to the pleasures she had never known.

But now, she just wanted Aramis' eyes to look at her so she could let him know that in this moment she had never forgotten that night or him. She wished her life could be different and that the laws would allow him a greater part in her life. Sadly, her husband was free to have his pleasures with whomever he chose, but she was forever left lonely and wanting, especially now that Louis had the son he had wanted of her.

Anne brought her eyes back to Aramis' face, pushing aside the thoughts of their intimacies. Her voice quickly defended her actions from his earlier reprimand, and she strongly reminded him that she was the queen. "I will always serve my country."

Aramis could not help looking upwards and meeting her eyes. It was the instinct of being scolded, especially by the sovereign of France, and when he caught her irises, he saw that she had removed the shield of authority. Instead, she was the Anne who was with him that night in the convent.

Anne could not feel any anger towards Aramis for speaking the truth of her dangerous mission, and when their eyes met, she finally felt the joy within her once more at being able to look upon him without fear of ridicule…or worse. Her voice softened, as she wished to let Aramis know that she did not hold anger towards him, but her anger was directed at the laws that blocked them from sharing their hearts.

"But perhaps this time it was unwise," she agreed with a slight smile regarding Aramis' concerns. She had missed the kindness in his eyes so greatly, and now it was shining like a flame that a moth could not ignore in the darkness of night.

Aramis sighed and felt himself relax a little, allowing that part of him that knew joy to finally surface as his eyes sparkled in Anne's radiance. Unable to stop the slight amusement in his words, he allowed his eyes, more than his lips, to smile at her as he teased, "Foolish is the better word."

"You are talking to your Queen, Aramis," Anne said, tilting her head slightly and edging closer. She prayed the moment would not be lost, and as the wedge of propriety began to slide away, she offered him a smile that showed him she knew how to be playful as well.

"I know," Aramis replied softly, his seriousness quickly returning, and felt himself tense as Anne lingered within the barrier he kept between them. He fought to keep his arms near his sides, aware of her hand finding purchase along his coat near one of the scars on his stomach. He felt his head tilt towards her, but he would not breach that final slice of propriety.

"We promised each other," he said faithfully, continuing to fight the instincts that demanded he hold her and relive the moments that had been in his memories for so long.

"A Queen is allowed to break her promises," Anne told him softly as she daringly pressed forward and moved her hand along his side, her body sliding into the space that separated them and shattering the barrier of propriety once again.

Aramis found that he no longer wanted to continue the conflict within him, and he had longed for her touch, painfully aware of just how much Anne had consumed his very soul. Lost in the happiness in her eyes that he was capable of giving to her, Aramis felt his arms come around her as naturally as breathing. When her lips grazed his, he no longer held himself back and pulled her against him, his one hand sliding into the crook of her waist. While he was remembering that night at the convent, he found he was creating a new memory in this moment – one much simpler and sweeter and one that reminded him that Anne had not forgotten him.

Anne grasped Aramis tightly, and leaned into his kiss, holding him as she had seen other lovers do. Everything about him was as kind and compassionate as she remembered, and she never wanted this moment to end. She felt the heat of his fingers comb into her hair, his hand grasping the back of her head, and it emboldened her to press against him harder. She wanted him to know that she would never forget him, and if there was ever a way to see him to share moments like this in the future, she would arrange it.

There was a sound of the linen shifting, and as it caught their attention, they broke apart hastily but with confusion as they turned to see Constance peering through the opening of the material that acted as the door of the tent.

Quickly pulling away from each other, Aramis and Anne stood for a moment and considered their mistake before Anne rushed out the door of the tent. Aramis realized now what he and Anne wanted was nothing more than a fantasy, and he could not continue to endanger her or their son with frivolous moments of affection.

Anne turned to Constance, her heart still rushing and her hands still trembling from Aramis' touch. She wanted nothing more than to know that her trust in this woman was not misplaced, and she prayed her words would make her friend understand.

"You know all my secrets now," Anne whispered while taking a breath and holding Constance's hand in a pleading manner that was uncharacteristic for the strength the queen was known to exhibit. "You carry my life in your hands."

Constance glanced at the closed cloth where Aramis still waited in the tent and then to her queen, watching Anne step away. Feeling both embarrassed that she had dared to intrude on such a personal moment and saddened that her queen had to sneak around in order to feel any kind of compassion, Constance took a worried breath.

Understanding Queen Anne's plight in a very personal manner that was not so dissimilar from hers, Constance knew she would never betray her queen or the Musketeer who was foolish enough to fall in love with royalty.


End file.
